


it drops with the gravity of rain

by shellybelle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (Dex hits a guy)(but he deserves it), Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, and cuddles, but also A+ co-captaining, mild violence of the protect-your-d-man-slash-crush-variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellybelle/pseuds/shellybelle
Summary: It happens like this:“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”It happens like this: “Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”It happens like this:When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Me, Monday: I'm gonna write a short, angsty Dex/Nursey one-shot because I've got a lot of feelings about these stupid college boys, and it'll be an easy way to get into the fandom.  
> Me, Friday: ...I've made a terrible mistake.
> 
> Please note the tags. For a more detailed explanation of potential triggers in the fic, see the end notes. Read safely, friends. :)

But I hear only your voice, your voice

soars with the zing and precision of an arrow,

it drops with the gravity of rain

_Pablo Neruda, Sonnet 52_

 

It happens like this:

 

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

 

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

 

It happens like this:

 

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

 

It happens like this:

 

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

 

#

 

“Actually,” Nursey says on Monday morning, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

 

Dex has his laptop open next to his scrambled eggs, trying to cram for the quiz he has in his nine AM comp sci class, but Nursey’s words still reach him, and he flinches before he can stop himself, even as he hears the rest of the table zero in on the potential team gossip. From his seat across from Dex, studying for the same quiz, Chowder raises his eyebrows at him curiously.

 

“ _Really_ , now,” Holster drawls, draping his arm over Ransom’s chair so he can lean back to look Nursey dead in the face to chirp him properly. “Our little Frog is all grown up and going on a real date? Do tell, Nurseykins.”

 

Nursey makes a face at him, but shrugs. “It’s a guy I knew at Andover,” he says, and it catches at Dex’s chest sometimes, how casually he can say things like that, tossing out _it’s a guy_ like it’s nothing. “He’s at Harvard now, poly sci. I ran into him in Cambridge this weekend, we talked and caught up, he asked me out. There’s not that much to tell yet.”

 

“What’s his name?” Ransom asks, already pulling out his phone. Dex rolls his eyes and stuffs  more eggs in his mouth. Ransom _would_ start Facebook stalking Nursey’s date.

 

“Paul Huntington,” Nursey says, and immediately looks like he regrets it as Ransom’s thumbs start flying. “Ransom--”

 

“Got him,” Ransom announces, and half the team gets up to look at Ransom’s phone.

 

Dex huffs a little into his notes. Nosy motherfuckers.

 

They’re all pretty quiet, though, so he glances up, frowning. Holster looks thoughtful. “What,” Dex says, despite himself. “Is he weird-looking or something?”

 

Nursey shoots him a look that Dex can’t quite decipher and doesn’t really want to touch, but Holster shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “He’s hot, but...he doesn’t really seem like your type, Nurse.”

 

The words are out of his mouth before Dex can stop them. “What’s that mean?”

 

Holster sits back in his own chair. “Kinda radiates prep school, is all I’m saying,” he says. He looks at Nursey, who’s staring resolutely into his yogurt. “I dunno, Nurse, I kinda thought your taste in guys was a little more…”

 

He trails off, glancing at Ransom. “More plaid flannel, less Abercrombie,” Ransom fills in for him.

 

Dex, who’s definitely wearing a well-loved L.L. Bean flannel over his Rolling Stones t-shirt, tries--and definitely fails--to keep his stupid ears from turning red.

 

“Yeah, well.” Nursey shrugs. “It’s a date, not an arranged marriage. He doesn’t have to be my dream guy. Worst case, it’s a free meal with a dude from high school. It’s chill.”

 

For some reason, that rubs Dex the wrong way. He scowls. “So what, you’re just scamming the guy out of some money for free food?”

 

Nursey looks surprised, then annoyed. “I didn’t say that.”

 

“Sounds like it,” Dex retorts. “Do you even like him?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Nursey says. “I haven’t seen him since I was sixteen. Why are you making this a thing, dude?”

 

Dex realizes, maybe belatedly, that most of the team is looking at them. He flushes. “Whatever, Nursey,” he says, picking up his fork again. “Not like it’s my business who you sleep with.”

 

“I never said--” Nursey begins, and then stops himself. “You know what, Poindexter, whatever. You’re always a bitch before you have a quiz. Yeah, yeah,” he says, before Ransom or Holster even say anything. “One for sexist language, I’ll put a dollar in the bin later.”

 

“Bro,” Wicks says, still looking at Ransom’s phone. “This guy’s best friend is some dude named _Jedediah_. Who the fuck names their kid that?”

 

“Really, _Pacer_?” Wagner pipes up from further down the table. “You’re calling out someone else’s name baggage?”

 

Wicks launches into yet another round of the Name Discourse he’s apparently been having for the last three years, Ollie jumps in to have his back, and Dex feels the group’s attention shift. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief and dares a glance at Nursey, just to see. Nursey has his “chill” face on, but Dex can tell it’s fake as fuck, faint lines around his mouth barely visible but giving away the lingering tension.

 

When Dex gets up to bus his tray, Nursey follows him, and annoyance prickles between Dex’s shoulder blades. But Nursey doesn’t say anything until they’re sorting their stuff into compost, trash, and dishwasher.

 

“Why are you being such a dick about this?”

 

Of course he’d start like that. Dex grits his teeth. “You’re going out some dude you don’t even like, and I’m being a dick?”

 

Nursey scowls at him. “It’s one fucking date, Dex,” he says. “And you made it clear you weren’t interested, so--”

 

“I never said I wasn’t--” Dex cuts himself off because the end of that sentence off because the end of that sentence scares the shit out of him, but the damage is done. Nursey’s expression is an awful mix of anger and hurt, and suddenly it’s a week ago and he’s standing in Nursey’s dorm room, his lips warm and his fingers digging into the smooth skin of Nursey’s hips, under his shirt, breathless and panicking and too hot for his skin.

 

He feels frozen.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Nursey says, his voice low and a little cold. “You don’t know what you want--or at least you’re not willing to take it--but you don’t want me to date anyone else?”

 

Dex shoves down the twisting in his stomach and sets his jaw. “Like I said,” he says, “it’s not my business who you fuck.”

 

“Bullshit,” Nursey says, eyes blazing. “You made it it your business with your little shit fit back there.”

 

“Maybe because this guy asked you out like a day after we hooked up,” Dex hisses, hackles rising, “and you said yes.”

 

“You said that us hooking up was a bad idea,” Nursey retorts. “I backed off. I’m trying to be the good guy here, Dex, I’m trying to move on, so what’s the fucking problem?”

 

Move on? Dex thinks, wildly, because what the fuck, you don’t need to move on from a hookup, he’d thought Nursey just wanted to hook up, what--

 

But he’s already on the defensive, already bristling, not willing to filter in new information. His stupid _fucking_ temper--“You move on however you want, Nurse,” he says. “Have fun fucking your prep school guy.”

 

Nursey’s eyes flash, real anger this time, not the simmering frustration that had been there before. “Will you _stop_? I don’t want to fuck him, Dex, Jesus,” he snaps. “It’s a first date, I’m not--I don’t do that.”

 

Dex thinks about those frantic kisses in Nursey’s room, his hands in Nursey’s hair, on his hips; Nursey’s fingers digging into his waist when Dex dragged him closer. “Could’ve fooled me.”

 

Nursey actually takes a step back at that, and Dex feels a twinge of guilt. “Shit,” he says. “Derek--”

 

“No,” Nursey says, hurt written all over his face. “No, fuck you, Dex, that wasn’t fair.”

 

And just like that, Dex is pissed again. “Well, maybe your instant rebound isn’t fair either,” he snaps. “Jesus, Nurse, you didn’t even give me a chance to _think_ before you--”

 

“You didn’t _ask_ for time to think,” Nursey says. “You just said no. I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

 

“You didn’t think maybe I didn’t know how to ask?” Dex blurts out. “That that was the first time I’ve ever--fuck, Nurse, I don’t know what the fuck I’m _doing_ with you!”

 

Nursey crosses his arms, glaring, and then he seems to deflate, running a hand through his hair. “You know what, Dex, just--fuck this. I can’t. You have to be fucking straight with me. I’m not doing this will-he-won’t-he shit anymore.”

 

And that _hurts_ , though Dex isn’t totally sure why. “Fuck you too, Nurse,” he snaps. “Fuck you for not even giving me a chance.”

 

He slams his tray into the collection bucket hard enough that the dishes rattle, and storms away.

 

Nursey calls his name, hurt and frustration warring in his voice, but Dex doesn’t look back.

 

He doesn’t answer Nursey’s texts, either, doesn’t even read them, finally Nursey stops reaching out. The next week is just--shitty. They still connect at practice, but it’s awkward as fuck off the ice, and Chowder starts giving them anxious looks at team breakfast, when they sit as far apart as they can manage and don’t even look at each other.

 

Fortunately, school’s enough to keep his mind off shit with Nursey, so he heads over to the Haus on Thursday night to do homework with Chowder and steal whatever Bitty’s baking.

 

But, because the world apparently hates him, he reaches the Haus and runs smack into Nursey and a tall, handsome white guy coming down the stairs and realizes: oh, _great_ , that’s tonight. Just what he needs. The guy has his arm slung around Nursey’s waist and looks like he’d just come out of an J. Crew catalogue, clean-cut features and smooth blonde hair. Nursey stops dead when he sees Dex, and a knot clenches in Dex’s stomach.

 

The guy raises his eyebrows, looking back and forth between them. “Derek? You okay?”

 

Nursey swallows, and the smile he pastes on is so fake Dex has to clench his fists at his sides. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Paul, this is Dex, he’s my defense partner on the team. Dex, this is Paul.”

 

Paul nods to him, but doesn’t offer his hand. “Sup.”

 

“Hey,” Dex grits out. Nursey’s eyebrows draw together briefly and Dex wishes he didn’t look so stupidly attractive in his button-down and cardigan, soft beanie tugged over his curls. “Don’t stay out too late, Nurse. We’ve got a game tomorrow, need you ready to skate.”

 

Paul grins, tugging Nurse a little closer to him. “Already got that lecture from your tiny blonde mom friend,” he says. He gives Nursey a bit of a leer. “No promises, though.”

 

Nursey smiles, but it looks--at least to Dex--a little strained. “Chill, Poindexter,” he says. “I’ll be home by ten.”

 

He says it casually, like everything’s fine between them, but his eyes are flat, none of the usual chirping light that Dex usually gets from him, and Dex’s skin prickles unpleasantly. “Yeah, well--good,” Dex manages, lamely. “See you on the ice, then.”

 

Nursey’s date tosses him a casual salute--yeah, right, fucker, Dex thinks, like you’ve been anywhere near the military--and leads Nursey across the yard to the red Lexus parked on the street. Dex purses his lips, then turns and stomps up the stairs into the Haus. He hopes it’s a shitty date. Like, the shittiest. The worst.

 

Bitty’s in the kitchen--of course he is--and about startles out of his skin when Dex lets the door slam behind him. “ _Dex_! What on earth--” Something on Dex’s face makes him falter, though, and he frowns, cutting off his lecture before he starts it. “Honey? Is everything okay?”

 

Dex takes a breath, lets it out slowly. He’s willing to take his anger at Nursey out on a lot of people, but there are a few exceptions, and Bitty’s one of them. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m just...dealing. With some stuff.”

 

Bitty narrows his eyes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone who just left for a date, would it?”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Dex says, digging his fingers into the strap of his backpack.

 

The oven beeps, and Bitty turns to open it, slipping on a pair of oven mitts and pulling out a pan of--oh, hey, brownies, nice. “Dex,” he says, turning back around and putting the pan on a cooling rack. “You know you can always talk to any of us on the team, right? About anything. The guys joke around a lot, but they’re all really cool about--well, about things. This is a safe space.”

 

Dex can’t tell if he wants to sigh or scream or run for the hills. He loves Bitty, he does, but the guy’s about as subtle as a freight train--but, apparently, so is he? “Seriously, Bitty, I’m fine, but I just--I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Bitty eyes him for another moment, and then nods. “Chowder’s up in his room,” he says. “I’ll give y’all a shout when these are cool enough to eat. Last time I let you dive in Holster burned his mouth so bad he couldn’t talk for three days.”

 

“Worth it,” Holster says, striding in from the living room.

 

Dex leaves them in the kitchen, Bitty batting Holster’s hands away from the steaming pan of brownies, and climbs the stairs up to Chowder’s room. C’s not there, but his door is open and his laptop is open on his desk, so Dex shrugs and sets himself up on the bed, tugging his laptop out of his backpack, reaching down to plug the charger into the extension cord under the bed.

 

Chowder comes through the bathroom door connecting his room and Lardo’s as Dex sits back up again, and his face lights up when he sees him. “Oh hi!” he says. “Sorry, Lardo wanted to show me some of the stuff she’s working on for her senior showing--it’s _so_ cool.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Chowder and Lardo have gotten a lot closer this year--Dex figures that’s bound to happen, sharing a bathroom; you either learn to love the person, or you murder them. Since Chowder wasn’t dead two weeks in the semester, Lardo had clearly decided to love him, and Chowder obviously adores her. “You ready to buckle down into this stuff?”

 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Chowder grabs his laptop from his desk and climbs up on the bed next to Dex, sitting back against the wall so they’re both sideways.

 

They do a few problems together, working their way through the homework. It’s harder than the stuff they were doing freshman year, but not impossible, and while Dex is glad he’s got Chowder in most of his classes, he definitely _gets_ it, which keeps his stress level down. It’s a relief. Between hockey and the shitshow with Nursey this week, he’s not sure if he could handle it if school was a mess, too.

 

“Hey,” Chowder says, after about half an hour of work. “Can I ask you about something?”

 

Dex glances up from his screen, looking over at him. Chowder’s expression is uncertain, a little wary. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah?”

 

“So like…” Chowder picks at a peeling sticker on his laptop. “What’s going on with you and Nursey?”

 

Shit. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

 

The _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me_ face Chowder gives him is so eerily reminiscent of Lardo that Dex’s skin actually crawls a bit. Maybe they’re getting a little _too_ close. “Right,” he mumbles. “We’re just...going through some shit right now, C.”

 

“But things were going so good with you,” Chowder protests. “You’ve been getting along since, like, Hausgiving last year, and this year it almost seemed like you were--”

 

He breaks off, cheeks tinging pink, and Dex feels his ears heat up. “Yeah, well,” he says, looking down at his keyboard. “We’re not.”

 

Chowder opens his mouth for a moment, and then he closes it. “Oh,” he says finally. “Uh. Is that because--”

 

“We’re just not,” Dex says, because he doesn’t really know the answer to _why_ , other than that having feelings for a guy is new and confusing and having feelings for _Derek fucking Nurse_ is out of the realm of what his brain can fucking comprehend. “We’re just...we’re not.”

 

“Okay.” Chowder nods, and Dex loves that about him--that he’ll take that as an answer, that he’s not gonna push, no matter how much he wants to know more. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

 

Dex snorts. “Bitty said the same thing.”

 

Chowder shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “You’ve both been...pretty off this week. We noticed. A lot of people noticed.”

 

Shit. “We’ll pull it together,” Dex says. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

 

Relief floods into Chowder’s face. “‘Swawesome,” he says. “And seriously,” he adds, nudging Dex gently. “You _can_ talk to me. I won’t be weird. Promise.”

 

“I know, dude.” The idea of talking to Nursey tomorrow morning, when he’ll be fresh off a date with a guy who looks like a fashion model, makes Dex’s stomach churn unpleasantly. But he got himself into this mess by pushing Nursey away when he’d actually had a shot with him, so now he just has to--deal, or whatever. “I might need to, anyway.” He shakes off the discomfort. “Come on,” he says. “This homework isn’t gonna do itself.”

 

Chowder makes a face, but turns back to his laptop.

 

They make it through another hour and a half before they give up and go downstairs to demolish half a plate of brownies and join the Mario Kart session going on in the living room. Surrounded by his teammates and the weirdly soothing atmosphere of very large dudes screaming expletives at each other over Rainbow Road ( _fuck_ Rainbow Road), Dex actually feels himself relax a little, the stress and anxiety of the past week draining away.

 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to do about Nursey. He knows--he _knows_ , deep in his gut, that those fierce, stolen kisses in Nursey’s room were the best of his life, that they’d ignited something in him that he’d never, ever felt before. He also knows that that’s fucking terrifying, because Nursey’s not just a _guy_ , he’s his friend, and his teammate, and if nothing else, Dex _can’t_ fuck up their chemistry on the ice. He needs his athletic scholarship to stay at school, and whatever else they are, he can’t imagine connecting with another d-man like he connects with Nursey. But he wants…

 

Fuck. He _wants_.

 

But they--they can’t. Because they’re on the same team, and it’s a bad idea. And because even if they weren’t, Dex went ahead and fucked it all up on Monday, when he’d basically spat in Nursey’s face and pushed him away _again_. Not that Nursey hadn’t deserved it--for all his _chill_ , he’d sure been quick enough to throw Dex aside when something better came along, but--

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Dex frowns and fishes it out. Nursey’s name flashes across the screen, and he hesitates, his thumb hovering over the button to answer or ignore the call. He really, _really_ doesn’t want to deal with Nursey now, not when he’s finally starting to relax, not when he’s trying to get his shit together...He glances up at the couch, where Rans and Holster are battling it out, and sighs. They’d drilled “always pick up when your d-man calls” into his head during pre-season his freshman year, and he can’t quite shake it, no matter how pissed he is. He picks up the call, right on the last ring before it’d go to voicemail. “What?”

 

“Dex?”

 

It’s definitely Nursey’s voice, but Dex has never heard it like this before. He sounds breathy and confused, shaky-- _weird_. “Nurse?” Dex pushes himself to his feet, leaves the noise of the living room for the quiet of the kitchen, empty now that Bitty’s gone upstairs to study.

 

“Dex,” Nursey says again. “Dex, I need--I need you to come get me.”

 

“What?” Dex doesn’t mean to sound incredulous, but seriously, what the _fuck_ kind of nerve--“Nursey, are you kidding me?”

 

“ _Dex_.” Something in the way Nursey says his name makes him stop breathing. It takes Dex a second to place the emotion in Nursey’s voice, and when he realizes that it’s fear, his stomach clenches. “Dex, I think he--I think he put something in my drink. I think he fucked with my drink.”

 

Dex’s blood, which had been heating up with anger as his brain cooked up all sorts of scenarios that would make Nursey call him for a ride home--his date figured out that Nursey just wanted a free meal, his date turned out to not like poetry, his date’s car broke down and Nursey wanted Dex to come fix it--runs abruptly cold. “What?”

 

“I--” Nursey takes a shuddering breath. “I only took a few sips of it, but I feel fucking _weird_ , Dex, like shaky and dizzy and like my body’s not responding right and--”

 

He’s slurring a little, like he’s drunk, but there’s real panic in his voice, and Dex’s heart starts pounding. “Okay,” he says. He forces himself to relax his grip around his phone before he cracks the screen. “Okay, Nursey, okay, I’m gonna come get you, you’re gonna be okay. Where are you?”

 

“Elysian’s,” Nursey says. “I’m--I’m in the bathroom now.”

 

Dex runs through calculations in his head. Elysian’s is on the swankier side of Samwell, about a twenty minute drive from campus. He remembers overhearing Nursey saying that Paul wanted to take him to a restaurant in Cambridge, and sends up a prayer that Nursey had convinced him not to. “Okay. Stay there as long as you can. I’m gonna take someone’s car right now. Nursey, whatever you do, don’t get in a car with him. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

It’s a mumble. Dex’s heart sinks. “Nursey. _Derek_. Repeat that back to me. What did I just say?”

 

“I…” Nursey’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Don’t get in Paul’s car.”

 

“Good,” Dex says, a rush of relief going through him. “Okay. I’m coming right now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Dex waits until Nursey hangs up, and then runs back into the living room. Holster lifts his head up from where he’s been leaning it against Ransom’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “What was that all about?”

 

“I need someone’s keys,” Dex says through gritted teeth, “and I need them right the fuck now.”

 

Holster’s expression goes from curious to concerned in the blink of an eye. “What the fuck, dude?”

 

“That was Nursey,” Dex says, brandishing his phone. “He thinks his date fucked with his drink. We need to go get him right now.”

 

Ransom and Holster’s ability to transform from casual frat bros to captains on the warpath never ceases to amaze him. “We’ll take my car,” Holster says, on his feet in an instant. “Chowder, you stay here to explain to Bitty and Lards if they come downstairs. Rans, let’s go.”

 

Ransom is already by the door, grabbing Holster’s keys from the ring on his backpack and tossing them to him. “Get a move on, Dex,” he calls, and Dex scrambles to follow them out to Holster’s battered old Honda, still a little stunned by the speed of the mobilization.

 

There’s no question about Ransom getting shotgun, so Dex slides into the backseat, shoving random piles of junk aside so that he can buckle his seatbelt as Holster slams the driver’s side door shut. “Where are we going?”

 

“Elysian’s,” Dex says.

 

“Fucking pretentious,” Holster says, turning the car on. “I knew I got a fucking douchebag vibe from that guy, Rans, I fucking knew it.”

 

“Holtz,” Ransom says, a little sharply, and Holster quiets, putting the car in gear and heading off down the street, a few miles above the speed limit. Ransom twists in his seat to look at Dex. “What did he say, Dex?”

 

Dex swallows. “He said he only had a few sips of his drink, but that he felt really dizzy and confused and weird. And that his body wasn’t acting right.” He rubs his phone between his hands, texts **we’re on our way** to Nursey. “But maybe--maybe he’s having a reaction to something he ate?”

 

“Not likely,” Ransom says. “That’s pretty--fuck.” He takes off his snapback and scrubs a hand over his face and hair, and then puts his hat back on. “Shit. Okay. Drive, Holtzy.”

 

“I _am_ driving,” Holster bites out. He has a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, his jaw set and his eyes focused on the road ahead of them, and it’s so close to the face he has right before he slams someone the boards during a game that Dex actually shivers a little.

 

The drive’s supposed to take twenty minutes, and they make it in seventeen. Dex stares at his phone the entire time, waiting for Nursey to text back, but he never does, and the longer the silence stretches out, the more Dex’s anxiety heightens. He feels like he could vibrate out of his skin, and when Holster finally pulls into the parking lot, he’s got his hand on the door handle before the car’s even stopped moving.

 

“Where’d he say he was?” Ransom asks, getting out with him.

 

Dex shakes his head. “He called me from the bathroom,” he says. “But--”

 

Noise and movement catches his eye from the other end of the parking lot, and he whips his head around. He sees a familiar red Lexus, and then, next two it, two people, one clearly attempting to maneuver the other into the passenger side.

 

His feet are moving before he realizes it.

 

“C’mon, Derek,” Paul is saying when Dex reaches them, one hand on Nurse’s shoulder, the other on his waist. “Let me take you back to my place to sleep this off. You’ll feel better in the morning, baby.”

 

“No,” Nursey mumbles, clearly trying to squirm out of his grip, but his movements are sluggish and uncoordinated. It’s not what he’s like when he’s drunk; he can still be smooth, when he wants to, no matter how clumsy he gets when he’s wasted. “Dex said not to go with you.”

 

Paul’s expression turns annoyed, shadowy under the streetlight. “Who the fuck is Dex?”

 

“I’m Dex, motherfucker,” Dex snaps, and when Paul turns around to look at him in confusion, Dex punches him in the face, hard enough that his head snaps back. He stumbles, and then slides down against the side of the car, his face dazed and confused, blood streaming from his mouth.

 

Without Paul’s grip on him holding him up, Nursey sways dangerously on his feet, and then pitches forward. “Whoa whoa whoa--” Dex grabs him by his upper arms and holds him upright, trying not to totally freak out. “Nursey. Nursey!”

 

Nursey looks blearily at him. “Dex?” He blinks, slowly, like he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “Dex, I didn’t get in the car. You told me not to get in the car, so--”

 

“You did just what I told you,” Dex says, trying to keep his voice steady. “You did great, Nursey, you’re gonna be fine.” He raises his voice. “Ransom!”

 

Ransom’s there in an instant, taking Nursey’s face in his hands and turning his face so that Nursey’s looking at him and not Dex, his brow furrowed in concentration. Dex knows that Ransom isn’t _actually_ a doctor, isn’t even in med school yet, but somehow, just having him there taking control of the situation there makes Dex feel a little better.

 

Until Ransom hisses through his teeth. “Okay,” he says. “We’re taking him to a hospital.”

 

Dex startles, accidentally tightening his grip on Nursey’s arms. “What? Why?”

 

Ransom glances at him, his expression worried and impatient, and then it softens slightly at whatever he sees on Dex’s face. “Because he’s reacting to something, Dex, and I don’t know what it is, but I’m not taking chances,” he says. He looks around and frowns. “Where the fuck is Holster?”

 

Dex follows his gaze, still half focused on holding Nursey up. “Where the fuck is _Paul_?” The spot where Nursey’s date had sprawled against the car is empty, the only trace of him a few splotches of blood visible on the pavement, glistening under the streetlight.

 

“I bet Holster’s trying to fucking chase him down,” Ransom mutters. “We don’t have time for this shit.” He digs his phone out of his pocket with one hand and motions at Dex with the other. “C’mon, let’s get him back to the car.”

 

He and Ransom sling Nursey’s arms over their shoulders, because Nursey’s barely upright at this point, and half-carry him back across the parking lot to Holster’s car. “Yo,” Ransom says into his phone as they reach the car, pulling Holster’s spare key out of his back pocket as Dex gets Nursey into the back seat. “We need to get Nursey to the hospital, man, where the fuck are you?” He’s quiet for a moment, listening, and then says. “Okay. Two minutes.” He hangs up and slides into the passenger seat. “I guess he lost him. Motherfucker must’ve been faster than he looked.” He shoots Nursey a worried look. “Nursey? How you doing, bro?”

 

“Dizzy,” Nursey mumbles, dropping his head against Dex’s shoulder. “Feels weird.”

 

Dex looks at him anxiously, reaching out a cautious hand to touch Nursey’s arm. “Hey,” he says. “You’re okay now, alright? We got you.”

 

Nursey fumbles a little, like he’s looking for Dex’s hand and can’t find it. Dex catches Nursey’s fingers in his and laces them together, and Nursey relaxes a little, and Dex moves into the middle seat even though Holster’s car is fucking tiny and there’s no room for his legs. The second Dex is pressed up against his side, Nursey relaxes even more, and Dex turns Nursey’s hand over and puts his other hand against the inside of Nursey’s wrist, under his sweater. His pulse is slower than usual, and Dex bites down on his lower lip. “Where the fuck’s Holster?” He asks loudly.

 

“Here,” Holster says, jerking the door open and dropping into the driver’s seat, only a little out of breath. “Motherfucker must do track or something.” He throws the car in gear. “What’s closest, Newton-Wellesley?”

 

Ransom’s got his phone out, and he nods after a second. “Yeah. Just take 95, it’s not worth fucking around with back roads.”

 

Holster nods and throws the car in gear, and Nursey slumps a little bit more against Dex’s shoulder as they pull out of the parking lot. Dex keeps his fingers glued to Nursey’s pulse, like he can make sure he’s okay just by keeping track of his heartbeat, and tries to keep his own breathing even.

 

He might have wanted Nursey to have a shitty date, but this is--Fuck.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Newton-Wellesley is one of the nicer hospitals in the area, way newer and nicer than anything near where Dex lives in Maine--EMMC is decent, but nothing like the hospitals around Boston. Holster pulls up in front of the Emergency Department and stops the car but leaves it running, comes around to pretty much haul Nursey out of the back seat. Dex scrambles out after him and has to catch Nursey when he sways forward, pulling Nursey’s arm over his shoulders. “Hey, hey, you’re alright, I got you,” he murmurs, and Nursey ducks his head into Dex’s neck.

 

“Dex?” Nursey whispers. He curls his fingers into Dex’s sleeve. “’m really freaking out.”

 

He’s shaking, and Dex swallows the lump in his throat. “It’s okay,” he says, keeping his voice carefully calm. “You’re fine, Derek.”

 

Ransom tosses them a surprised glance, but doesn’t comment on Dex’s use of the name. “Come on,” he says, surprisingly gentle. “Let’s get him inside.”

 

The ED is pretty quiet for a Thursday night, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at Nursey, half-slumped over Dex and Ransom’s shoulder, and sends them back into a small room to talk to a nurse. They pretty much pour Nursey into a chair while their triage nurse, a tiny black lady who looks totally unfazed by having four giant hockey players crammed into this room with her, asks him for his name, his birthday, if he’s on any medication, if he smokes, if he drinks, if he had any alcohol tonight, what brought him in.

 

Dex startles a little when Nursey mumbles that he’s on an antidepressant and takes an anti-anxiety medicine sometimes, but his surprise gets pushed to the back of his head when he realizes with a sinking stomach that Nursey’s answers are getting more and more slurred, that he’s stumbling over his words. The nurse notices too, even as she’s taking his blood pressure and his pulse and his temperature, and she’s standing next to him with a cuff around his arm when he starts to tip to the side. Dex lunges forward, but Ransom gets there first, catching Nursey around the shoulders and keeping him from falling out of the chair. “Nursey, Nursey, hey, bro, hey,” Ransom says, leaning down, tapping Nursey’s cheek, a little more roughly than he normally would. “Wake up for me, buddy.”

 

“Sir,” the nurse says sharply. “Do not _hit_ my patient.”

 

“’sokay,” Nursey mumbles. “’s just Ransom, ’m good.”

 

“Honey, you are very _not_ good,” the nurse tells him, and takes off the cuff. “We’ve just had a bed open up and it’s been a slow night. Congratulations, you just jumped the line.”

 

She calls for a wheelchair, because apparently the way they’ve been hauling Nursey around doesn’t meet medical standards, and Dex hovers anxiously next to him while a guy in scrubs who looks younger than them wheels Nursey back into a room and then helps him up into a bed. Nursey slumps back onto the pillows like all the fight’s gone out of him, and Dex moves over to his side, curling his fingers around Nursey’s wrist. “Hey,” he says, and Nursey looks at him, bleary-eyed. “Stay awake, okay? I don’t think you’re supposed to pass out.”

 

“I’m tired,” Nursey says.

 

He sounds more petulant than freaked out. Dex thinks that might be a good sign, but he’s too freaked out himself to tell. But Nursey pushes himself up a little bit, into a mostly-sitting position, and scrubs a shaking hand over his face. Holster drops into the chair next to the bed, and Ransom puts a hand on his shoulder, rubs almost absently for a moment before dropping his hand. “How you feeling, Nursey?” Holster asks.

 

Nursey shakes his head. “Weird and shaky,” he says. “Slow? I can’t think right.”

 

Ransom’s lips thin, but before he can say anything, there’s a knock at the door and a young, pretty nurse comes into the room. She introduces herself as Mary and clips a heart monitor to Nursey’s finger, asks him some of the same questions that the triage nurse had, and tells them that a doctor will be in to see him soon.

 

Dex has played hockey since elementary school and has therefore spent enough time in ERs to know that “ER soon” and “normal soon” mean two totally different things, but it’s actually only about ten more minutes before there’s another knock, and a middle-aged doctor with thinning gray hair steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Hi,” he says, his voice low and gentle, faintly pleasant. “I’m Dr. Cohen, I’m--” He falters a moment. “Good God, you’re all tall, aren’t you?”

 

It diffuses a bit of the tension in the room; Dex doesn’t expect to laugh, but he does, a little startled. The guy isn’t really _small_ , he’s probably 5’8”, but he, Nursey, and Ransom are 6’2”, and Holster’s 6’4”, clearly huge, even sitting in a chair.

 

Dr. Cohen recovers himself quickly, though, smiling at Nursey. “You must be Derek?” Nursey nods. “Can you tell me about what happened tonight?”

 

Nursey swallows, licks his lips. He glances at Dex, and Dex hasn’t seen this many emotions mixing on his face since they made out in Nursey’s room, and it puts a pit in his stomach to see the fear and panic and sickness on his features. “I…”

 

His breathing is a little shaky, and Dex squeezes his wrist. “Do you want us to leave?”

 

Nursey snaps his head up, eyes wide. “ _No_ ,” he says, looking terrified at the prospect.

 

“Okay,” Dex says quickly, bringing his other hand up to cup Nursey’s arm. Distantly, he realizes his fingers are curled around the ink on Nursey’s bicep, and pushes that thought aside; it’s not helpful, it’s not useful, it’s not even _close_ to appropriate. “Okay. We’re here, we’re staying.”

 

The doctor’s waiting, patiently, and doesn’t say anything until Nursey gets his breathing under control, and starts talking. He’s still stumbling over his words, and that’s really freaking Dex out--even when he’s totally shitfaced, Nursey can _talk_ , he can recite Neruda from memory, can freestyle rap out of nowhere, can quote literature that Dex hasn’t even heard of. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tastes copper in his mouth, and he swallows, trying to keep his expression calm as Nursey talks about Paul going up to the bar to get them drinks because Nursey’s underage, about coming back from the bathroom and seeing Paul leaning over the table but not thinking anything about it, about starting to feel weird and shaky halfway through the meal.

 

“And then what?” Dr. Cohen prompts, gently.

 

“And then…” Nursey trails off for a moment, and then shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. “Then I went to the bathroom to call Dex. To come get me.”

 

Dr. Cohen raises his eyebrows, looking around the room. “I’m guessing one of you is Dex?”

 

Dex clears his throat. “Yeah. Uh--me.”

 

The doctor just nods, and looks back at Nursey. “Okay,” he says. “So you called Dex?”

 

Nursey swallows and nods. “He said not to get in Paul’s car and that he’d come get me,” he says. “And then I…” He stops, frowning, and closes his eyes. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “I can’t…”

 

“When we got there, Paul was trying to get him into his car,” Ransom says, his voice tight. Dex can hear the barely-restrained anger in it. Then Ransom grins, cold and feral. “Dex punched him in the face.”

 

Dr. Cohen glances at Dex, then down Dex’s knuckles, which are curled around Nursey’s wrist. Dex realizes, belatedly, that they’re swollen, and one of them is bleeding.

 

“Uh,” he says. “Yeah. I did that.”

 

“Sounds like he deserved it,” Dr. Cohen says dryly, but he moves away from the bed and opens a drawer, pulling out a gauze pad and handing it to him. Dex reluctantly takes his hand off Nursey’s arm and wipes the blood off his knuckles, then takes the band-aid the doctor offers him. “Alright. I’m going to order a few tests. Derek, I know you’re tired, but can you try to stay awake a little longer?” Nursey nods, and Dr. Cohen smiles. “Great.”

 

Dex thinks he’ll leave, then, but instead he motions to Ransom and Holster, and they get up and follow him to a corner of the room, talking softly. Dex frowns, straining his ears to hear.

 

“Have you called an adult for him yet?”

 

“His parents are in London,” Ransom says quietly. “We’re his team captains. We can call our coach, but this is kind of our job.”

 

Dr. Cohen nods. “Alright,” he says. He glances back at Nursey, then at Dex, then back at Ransom and Holster, clearly not caring that Dex is obviously listening. “Keep him awake if you can, at least until we get tests started. I’ll have someone come in to get blood and urine samples. After that, it’ll probably be okay if he sleeps for a bit--it does sound like he was dosed with something, but it’s probably safe for him to sleep.”

 

Ransom nods, and the doctor touches his shoulder and Holster’s briefly before leaving the room. Holster exhales a heavy sigh, and Ransom slumps down into Holster’s abandoned chair, rubbing his jaw. Holster squeezes the back of Ransom’s neck, then sits down on the edge of the bed, where Nursey’s still sitting up, looking a little disoriented. “You okay, bro?”

 

“I feel fucking stupid,” Nursey mumbles, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t’ve--”

 

“Hey,” Ransom says, firmly. “You’re fine. Okay? This isn’t your fault.”

 

“Yeah,” Nursey says into his hand. “Right.”

 

Holster looks like he wants to say something, but Ransom puts a hand on his arm, shaking his head. “Nursey,” he says. “You don’t have to talk to us if you feel shitty, but you gotta stay awake, okay?”

 

Nursey nods and draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The movement pulls his wrist out of Dex’s hand, and Dex carefully doesn’t chase after him, even though his fingers feel weirdly cool now, like Nursey’s skin was keeping them warm.

 

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Dex doesn’t know what’s going through Ransom or Holster’s heads, but his own is a mess of what-if scenarios that make his stomach turn. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands--he wants to touch Nursey’s arm or hand or something, to let him know that he’s there, but Nursey’s shoulders are drawn up around his ears, and he’s radiating _don’t touch me_ in waves so loud even Dex can pick them up.

 

And even if he wasn’t, Dex thinks bitterly, he’s pretty sure he lost touching privileges after their fight on Monday. The only reason Nursey had curled into him so much tonight was that he was freaking out, and Dex can’t really blame him for that. Dex would probably be doing the same thing. They’re both just freaked right now, that’s the only reason why--yeah. He swallows. That’s why.

 

He looks around the room for something else to focus on, and finds another chair against the wall on his side of the bed. Dex glances at Nursey again, then grabs the chair and brings it a little closer to the bed, dropping into it and pulling out his phone. He has three texts from Chowder, and he sighs, unlocking his phone to reply.

 

**Chris Chowder Chow: hey you guys have been gone a really long time are you ok??**

**Chris Chowder Chow: bitty is freaking tf out**

**Chris Chowder Chow: text me please?????**

**Me: hey we’re at the hospital. MD wants to do some tests cos nursey is kinda fucked up i guess but nothing bad happened or anything**

 

Chowder’s reply is instantaneous, like he’s been waiting by the phone--which, Dex thinks with a twinge of guilt, he probably has been.

 

**Chris Chowder Chow: omg that’s so scary tho**

**Chris Chowder Chow: :( :(**

**Chris Chowder Chow: is he ok?**

**Me: he’s freaked out and really shaky**

**Chris Chowder Chow: so that guy definitely messed with his drink?**

 

Dex swallows, glancing up at Nursey again. Nursey still has his head dropped into his knees, and he’s shaking every few seconds, like he’s trying not to cry. Dex curls his hand into a fist hard enough that his nails sting into his palm, and then forces himself to relax.

 

**Me: yeah**

**Me: i punched him**

 

Chowder’s typing icon flashes for almost thirty seconds. When it finally stops, Dex almost expects a novel. What he gets instead is almost better.

 

**Chris Chowder Chow: fucking good.**

 

Dex allows himself a faint grin, but there’s a soft tap on the door before he can reply. Nursey lifts his head, swiping the heel of his palm over his eyes as a tall woman about Dex’s mom’s age comes into the room, wheeling a lab cart. “Hi,” she says, giving Nursey a light smile. “Derek? I’m Katie.”

 

“Hi,” Nursey says, resettling to sit cross-legged on the bed, blinking a little as he does as if the movement is disorienting. He starts pushing the sleeve of his cardigan up, and she shakes her head.

 

“I think you’re gonna have to take it off, hon,” she says. She types something into the computer attached to the cart as Nursey starts trying to shrug out of his sweater. His arms don’t seem to want to cooperate, and Dex climbs to his feet automatically to help him with it. Nursey shoots him a grateful, slightly embarrassed look. “Can you confirm your date of birth for me?”

 

“February 14, 1996,” Nursey says automatically.

 

Katie smiles. “Valentine’s Day?” she asks, and Nursey gives her a tired smile back. “I’m sure you get that all the time, huh?” Nursey shrugs, and she hums a little. “Tired, honey?”

 

“Long night,” he mumbles.

 

She nods. “We’ll get this done, then, so you can get some rest, okay?” She busies herself briefly with vials and sterile packaging, then ties a rubber tourniquet around Nursey’s bicep. Dex has to glance away when the needle slides into the vein--he can deal with blood, okay, he plays hockey; he just doesn’t like _needles_ \--and he hears Nursey’s quick intake of breath, feels him tense.

 

“Hey, Nursey,” Ransom says. “Did I ever tell you about the time I took Holster to the student  health center to get a flu shot our freshman year and he nearly pissed himself?”

 

“You asshole,” Holster hisses. “You _promised_ you would not tell anyone about that.”

 

Nursey laughs a little, though, and even strained, the sound is so gorgeous Dex could cry.

 

Katie gives them an amused look, shaking her head slightly as Holster tugs Ransom into a half-hearted headlock that looks more like an aggressive snuggle. She takes two more vials of blood and pulls the needle free, pressing a cotton swab down and telling Nursey to hold it there while she drops the needle and tubing into the biohazard bin in the corner. “Okay,” she says, turning back to Nursey. Her eyes are gentle, compassionate--they’re a warm brown, and Dex is reminded, suddenly, of Bitty. “I know Dr. Cohen wanted a urine sample as well, but you’re looking a little unsteady, Derek. Do you think you might need a hand?”

 

Nursey hesitates, then bites his lip, looking miserable. “I...maybe.”

 

“Hey,” Ransom says gently. “I got your back, bro. What do you need?”

 

Katie shakes her head. “You’re sweet to offer, honey, but I’ll get a nurse to help him.” She tapes barcode labels onto the vials of Nursey’s blood and then smiles gently at him. “Anything else you need?”

 

Nursey shakes his head, and then looks uncertain. “Some water, maybe?”

 

“I’ll have someone bring you some.” She glances around at the rest of them. “How about you boys? All of you okay?”

 

Holster gives her a thumbs up. “All good, ma’am.”

 

She chuckles, but leaves the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Nursey’s shoulders slump as soon as she’s gone, like the interaction was exhausting, and he rubs his hands over his face. They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Nursey’s shoulders shake a few times, and Dex can’t take it anymore. “Hey,” he says, quietly. “Are you doing okay?”

 

Nursey looks up at him, his green eyes cloudy. He gives a small shake of his head, but before Dex can say anything else, the door opens up again, and a guy in scrubs, probably a little older than Holster, pokes his head in. “Hi,” he says.

 

He has a round, friendly face that would probably put people at ease, but Dex is feeling weirdly protective tonight, and finds himself shifting a little closer to Nursey without really thinking about it. “Derek? I’m Ryan.” Nursey lifts one hand in a small, unenthusiastic wave, and Ryan matches it. “Think you can come take a walk down to the restroom with me?”

 

Nursey nods, pushing himself off the bed. He sways a little when his feet touch the ground and Dex, Holster, and the nurse all grab for him at the same time, but Nursey steadies himself on the edge of the bed. “’m okay,” he mumbles. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

 

Ryan frowns. “You sure? Want me to get you a chair?” Nursey sets his jaw and shakes his head, and Dex is at least eighty percent sure that he’s supposed to get dumped into a wheelchair anyway, but Ryan nods. “Okay. You can lean on my shoulder if you need to, okay?” Nursey nods, still looking a little grey, but follows Ryan out of the room.

 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Dex drops down into his chair and puts his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he says. “ _Fuck_.”

 

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he drags his head up to look at Holster. “You okay, bro?”

 

Dex swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “It’s just--this is so fucked up.”

 

Holster nods, sitting down on the bed. “We haven’t had one of our guys get roofied before,” he says quietly. “There was a girl who had something slipped into her drink at a Haus party our frog year. Shitty flipped the fuck out and Jack said that if was anyone on the team he’d get them kicked off--it turned out it was one of the Phi Sig guys, but it was just a fucked up thing, and Shitty _screamed_ at us. After that we scrapped the BYOB rule at Haus parties, but...” He shakes his head. “People are fucked up.”

 

“Yeah,” Dex says dully. He rubs his eyes. “Has anyone texted Bitty? Chowder said he was freaking out.”

 

Ransom nods. “I took care of it, bro. Don’t worry.”

 

“Someone should grab Nursey’s phone when he gets back,” Holster says, his voice soft. “Make sure that asshole hasn’t said anything.”

 

Dex’s stomach flips, but he picks his head up. “I can do it,” he volunteers weakly. “I’m his d-man, right? It should be me.”

 

Ransom and Holster exchange one of their weird, drift-compatible ESP looks, where they’re obviously having a whole conversation no one else can understand, all raised eyebrows and tensed lips. Finally, Holster shakes his head and looks at him. “No, it shouldn’t,” he says, and the tone of his voice is the one he uses before a game, no room to argue. “I don’t know what’s been up with you two this week, Dex, but you’re like--you’re clearly having a hard time with this. Let us handle it, okay?”

 

Dex wants to push back, but he knows, deep down, that he’s relieved. He doesn’t want to see whatever messages Paul left on his phone--and, he thinks, he probably shouldn’t. He’s already hit the guy once tonight, and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. “Thanks,” he says, and Holster just nods, touches his shoulder.

 

“Got your back.”

 

It’s another few minutes before Nursey comes back, looking tired and a little embarrassed. Ryan has a gentle grip on his arm, and keeps it there until Nursey has climbed back up on the bed, tucking his legs up. “He okay?” Ransom asks, settling a hand on Nursey’s shoulder. Nursey leans into his grip, but doesn’t say anything.

 

Ryan nods. “Little shaky on his feet,” he says, and looks at Nursey closely. “Derek?”

 

Nursey picks his head up off the pillows. “Mm?”

 

“Do you have any questions for me before I leave?”

 

Nursey blinks slowly at him. “Can I go to sleep?”

 

He sounds _exhausted_ , and Dex honestly wants to throw up. He hates this, he hates this so much. A hint of concern flickers over the nurse’s features, then smoothes away. “Yes,” he says calmly. “You can go to sleep. You can hit the call button if you need me, okay? I’m the nurse assigned to this room, so I’ll come back.”

 

Nursey nods, but he doesn’t look interested. Ryan pats his arm gently, then slips out of the room. Nursey sits up a little, feeling for his sweater, and squirms back into it, his shoulders quivering a bit.

 

Holster frowns. “Cold, man?”

 

“No,” Nursey mumbles. “Not really...cold, just…”

 

He trails off, shivering, and Dex swallows the lump in his throat. He starts to shrug off his flannel, but Holster’s faster, unzipping his hoodie and draping it over Nursey’s shoulders.

 

“It’s okay, bro,” he says, gently. “Get some sleep, okay? You’re safe. We’ve all got you.”

 

Nursey’s eyelashes flicker, and then his gaze shifts, and he glances over at Dex. His lips part, his expression uncertain and his eyes hazy, and Dex leans forward, touches his arm. “We’ve _all_ got you,” he says firmly. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Nursey says, and it’s a whisper, but it’s there.

 

Ransom produces a blanket from a cabinet, like he just weirdly knows the layout of ER rooms--and for all Dex knows, maybe he does--and Nursey curls up in the bed, closing his eyes. Holster tucks his hoodie around Nursey’s shoulders, and then Ransom spreads the blanket over him. Dex looks around, trying to find something helpful to do, and spots a dimmer switch on the wall. He brings the lights down, and Ransom shoots him an approving look.

 

“Hey,” Holster says. “Nursey. Probably not comfortable sleeping on your phone, right? Want me to hang on to it for you?” Nursey mumbles something that Dex doesn’t catch and squirms around under his blanket, then passes his phone up to Holster with a shaking hand. “Thanks, man.” He tousles Nursey’s curls gently. “Go to sleep, buddy. We’ve got you.”

 

Nursey nods again, not opening his eyes, and a few moments later his features smooth out, the tense lines around his mouth relaxing. His lashes cast dark circles against his cheek, and Dex wants to reach out and touch his curls like Holster did, but he feels like he shouldn’t.

He sits back in his chair instead, taking his phone out of his pocket to text Chowder, because his hands are shaking and he needs to do something with them before he punches a wall.

 

**Me: just wanted to update you - they’re doing some tests and nursey’s sleeping. Idk how long we’ll be here**

 

Chowder’s response comes through almost immediately.

 

**Chris Chowder Chow: is he ok?**

**Chris Chowder Chow: like is he still all messed up?**

**Me: idk he’s still kind of out of it**

**Me: he just fell asleep**

**Chris Chowder Chow: are you ok?**

 

Dex hesitates, his thumbs hovering the screen. His hands are still trembling, and he swallows hard, looking back up at Nursey. He looks peaceful now, quiet. On the other side of the bed, Ransom and Holster have their heads together, talking too softly for Dex to hear, and that’s _weird_ \--they’re _never_ quiet, he didn’t even think they had the _capacity_ for quiet. He swallows again and types a response.

 

**Me: i don’t know**

**Me: i’m kind of freaked out too**

**Chris Chowder Chow: do you want me to come there? I can take lardo’s car**

 

Fucking Chowder. Dex shakes his head, fond. He’s the best.

 

**Me: no. i’ll be ok. Just gotta get through it.**

 

They spend another half hour or so in uneasy silence. Ryan comes back in with a bottle of water, sets it on the counter, and leaves again when Holster shakes his head silently, indicating they’re not going to wake Nursey up to make him drink it. Ransom starts pacing eventually, because he’s never really known how to keep himself still, and Holster goes through Nursey’s phone, his expression totally flat. Dex tries to play 2048 and fails spectacularly; tries to check his newsfeed on Facebook but just wants to type angry shit on his relatives’ Fox News articles. When there’s a knock on the door and Dr. Cohen steps inside again, Dex actually sighs in relief at the reprieve.

 

But the doctor doesn’t talk to all of them, just looks at Nursey, asleep in the bed, and then motions to Ransom, as if after talking to Ransom and Holster earlier he’s concluded that Ransom is The Grown-Up in the room. Ransom glances at Holster, then at Dex, and follows the Dr. Cohen out of the room, the door closing behind them.

 

“What the fuck,” Dex says, when they’re gone.

 

Holster shrugs. “Ransom mentioned he’s pre-med, and he knows a lot of Nursey’s shit because they’re close. Maybe he figures Rans’ll understand whatever’s going on?”

 

“Yeah, but why wouldn’t he just tell all of us?” Dex frowns, looking at Nursey. “Why wouldn’t he wake up Nursey and tell _him_?”

 

Holster shakes his head. “I don’t know, man, I’m not a doctor.” He puts Nursey’s phone in his pocket.

 

Dex nods at it. “Was there stuff?”

 

Holster’s lips thin. “You don’t want to know,” he says. “I deleted it.”

 

“Holster--”

 

“ _Dex_.” Holster’s eyes flash, and Dex bites the inside of his cheek. “Trust me. You don’t want to know, and it’s better that it’s gone before Nursey ever sees it.”

 

The door opens and Ransom steps back inside, closing the door behind him. He stays by the door for a moment, his back ramrod-straight and his shoulders stiff, and when he turns back to them, his expression tight and angry.

 

“Rans?” Holster gets to his feet. “What is it?”

 

Ransom takes a breath, clearly trying to get his composure together. He takes a few steps forward, and Holster takes him by the arm, pulls him into the chair that he’s just gotten out of, letting him fall down into it. Ransom closes his eyes and breathes for a minute or two, and then opens his eyes and says, “Okay, so.” He takes another breath, and glances at Dex. “They ran a tox screen, and found a fucking cocktail of benzos in his system. Which means that motherfucker _definitely_ drugged him, which means he was definitely planning some sleazy fucking shit, which means it was a good fucking thing you punched him, Dex, and you probably should’ve punched him harder.”

 

Dex’s knuckles twinge under the band-aid, but he barely feels them with the way his stomach is churning. “Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “I--fuck.”

 

“Fuck,” Ransom agrees, sounding exhausted and angry. “Thank God he realized something was up and fucking called you, Dex, because this could’ve been, just…” He trails off, shaking his head, and rubs a hand over his face.

 

“Bad,” Holster says quietly. “Really fucking bad.”

 

“Yeah.” Ransom looks at Nursey, then reaches out to tug the blanket up a little higher on his shoulders. Dex watches him, but he feels a little light-headed, and he finds himself holding onto the arm of his chair. “Anyway, the doctor said he wants to give him an IV, just fluids, to try to flush his system a bit--there’s not really anything they can do other than that. He’s gonna be disoriented as fuck but we can basically take him home after he goes through a bag--”

 

Dex can barely hear him. He’s too busy looking at Nursey’s face, his soft, sleeping features gentle in the dim, low lighting, and thinking about how pissed he was three hours ago when his phone rang, about how he let it ring, and ring, and ring, about how he almost let it go to voicemail because he was mad and jealous and wanted Nursey to have a shitty night with his shitty date and he almost hadn’t picked up the phone, he almost hadn’t _picked up the phone_ \--

 

“Dex?”

 

Dex drags his eyes up from Nursey’s face to meet Holster’s worried eyes. When had his breathing gotten all weird? Holster’s frowning at him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I--” The word catches in his throat. Dex tries to suck in a breath, but it gets stuck in his chest, and he finds himself stumbling to his feet, shaking his head. “I--I’m sorry, I can’t, I need--I need some air, I can’t.”

 

“Dex--”

 

And that’s Ransom, his voice rising with concern, but Dex is already running for the door. His chest feels tight, like he can’t pull in a full breath, and he realizes that his eyes are stinging and hot. He doesn’t think he really remembers the way out of the ER but his feet seem to, because soon he’s crashing through a set of double doors and there’s cold nighttime air on his skin, and he’s doubling over, his hands on his knees, gasping. His phone feels like lead in his pocket, deadweight, and he wants to take it out and throw it against the wall.

 

A hand settles on his upper back, gentle but steady, and he lifts his head. Ransom’s worried expression is blurry, and it takes Dex a moment to realize that it’s because his eyes are watery and full of tears. “Hey,” Ransom says, soothing and soft. “Dex, Dex, hey. It’s okay.”

 

Dex shakes his head, because he still can’t breathe right and Nursey’s asleep in a hospital bed and some Andover motherfucker tried to drug him into unconsciousness to do fuck-knows-what to him and Dex’s own temper had almost let him get away with it and--

 

“Dex,” Ransom says again, firmer now. “Dex, I want you to breathe with me, okay? Hey. Match your breathing up with mine. In for three and out for three, alright? Come on, Poindexter.”

 

It takes Dex a couple tries, because he wants to just keep gulping in air and it keeps getting stuck somewhere in his chest or his throat, but Ransom’s voice is stern but gentle, and Ransom’s grip on his shoulders keeps him grounded. His breathing gets back under control, but even as it evens out in his lungs, it gets thicker in his nose, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s crying, and Ransom’s pulling him into a hug--not the bro-style embraces they fling themselves into on and off the ice, but a real hug, one of his arms around Dex’s shoulders and his other hand carding gently through Dex’s hair, holding him close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s alright, everything’s okay. You’re okay, Nursey’s okay, everyone’s okay.”

 

Dex digs his fingers into the back of Ransom’s sweatshirt and clings, sniffling into his shoulder. “It’s not,” he whispers hoarsely. “It’s fucking not, Rans, I almost--” He sucks in a shuddering breath, actually manages to fill his lungs for once. “I almost--”

 

He can’t get the words out. “Hey,” Ransom says, pulling back a little, looking at him. His brow is furrowed. “It’s alright, take your time. You almost what?”

 

His hands are shaking so fucking bad. It’s not really that cold a night, but he can’t stop shivering. “I almost didn’t answer the phone,” he says. “We had a stupid fight, and I was pissed at him, and I wanted him to have a shitty time on his stupid fucking date, so I was gonna let the call go to voicemail ’cause I didn’t want to talk to him.” Dex swallows. He doesn’t want to meet Ransom’s eyes, doesn’t want to know what he’ll find there. “And now I can’t stop thinking about you said, about--about what could’ve happened, and--”

 

“Okay,” Ransom says, cutting him off. Dex forces himself to look up, but Ransom doesn’t look angry, just upset. He hasn’t taken his hands off Dex’s shoulders. “Take it from me, Dex, one anxious guy to another--don’t go down the what-if rabbit hole. Just don’t. It’s--it’s a bad place to go.”

 

Dex takes a shaking breath. “But--”

 

“No buts.” Ransom looks around, and then wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him a little bit away from the double doors of the hospital, helps him sit down on the curb. “He’s okay, Dex. Whatever the _almost_ was--you picked up the phone, and you got us, and we came to get him, and he’s fine. A little fucked up, but this shit’ll get out of his system in like eight hours, and he’ll be fine.” He rubs Dex’s back, and Dex shudders. “He’s okay.”

 

“It would have been my fault if he wasn’t,” Dex says dully, picking at his shoelace.

 

“No,” Ransom says sharply. “It would’ve been a shitty situation, but it wouldn’t have been your _fault_ , Dex. Okay? You watch your d-man’s back, but you can’t be there all the time. None of us can.”

 

“But if I hadn’t--”

 

“Then he would have called one of us.” Ransom’s voice is firm, but not unkind. “He would have called me, or Holster, or Chowder or Bits or Lardo. Okay? It’s not all on you, Dex. And it _doesn’t matter_ , because he’s _okay_.”

 

Dex’s eyes prickle again, and he swipes the back of his hand over them, then rubs his nose. “Okay,” he whispers.

 

Ransom narrows his eyes, like he’s not really sure Dex believes him. “Okay?” Dex nods, pulling his knees up to his chest, and Ransom squeezes his arm around Dex gently. “Okay,” he says. He’s quiet a moment, and then says, “You wanna tell me what this is really about?”

 

Dex wraps his arms around his knees, rubbing his thumb over his bruised knuckles. The pain is dull, but kind of grounding. “I…” He hesitates.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t _trust_ Ransom. It’s just...He’s never done this.

 

But Nursey’s--asleep, or unconscious, or somewhere in between, and Dex’s heart aches, and he _can’t_ \--he can’t. “We hooked up,” he says, so softly he almost can’t hear his own voice. “Nursey and me. We kissed.”

 

Ransom doesn’t say anything, and Dex--doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He chances a glance up, but Ransom’s just watching him, patient and silent. Dex swallows. “I freaked out,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if it was, like, a gay panic thing or a teammate thing or what, but I just--I freaked, and I told him it was a bad idea, and we shouldn’t. And he said it was cool and we’d just be friends.” He shakes his head. “And I let him go, and then Paul asked him out, and when he told us about it at team breakfast I just got--so fucking pissed. I was jealous, I get it now, but I was just _mad_ , I thought he was just--”

 

He cuts himself off, makes himself take a deep breath. “I said some shit, and he said some shit, and we didn’t talk all week, and then…” He chews on his bottom lip, closes his eyes, feels them sting again. “I was so fucking scared tonight, Rans,” he whispers. “When I answered the phone and he told me that--I thought I was going to throw up, I was so fucking scared. And now I don’t even know...If he wasn’t freaking the fuck out, he’d probably still be so fucking mad at me.” Dex sniffles and looks back at Ransom. “All I want to do is go back in time and not--not push him away. And I fucking can’t.”

 

Ransom’s expression is soft, sympathetic. “Dex,” he says, and then stops. He draws his knees up and laces his fingers together on top of them, mirroring Dex’s posture. “Look,” he says quietly. “You’re not--I get what you’re feeling, some of it. The guy thing, the teammate thing. It’s scary as fuck. And this whole situation--it fucking sucks. It does. But he called you, Dex. Whatever else was going on, he called _you_. He knew you’d drop everything and come get him, no matter where shit stood with you guys.” He tilts his head to one side. “That counts for something, yeah?”

 

Dex bites his lip, but nods. “I guess.”

 

Even as he says it, though, he knows--he’d known, the second Nursey had asked, that whatever the reason was, he’d go get him. There was never really a question. Even if had just been one of the stupid scenarios he’d been putting together in his head, he’d have chirped Nursey to hell and back, maybe still been pissy as fuck, but he’d have gone. He’d always have gone. He swallows, wraps his arms a little more tightly around his knees. “What do I do now?”

 

“Now?” Ransom shrugs one shoulder. “If you’re up for it, we head back inside. We take Nursey home when we can. And then just...be there for him, I guess, y’know? The next few days are gonna be rough--he’s probably gonna be pretty confused tomorrow, but he’ll probably be pretty emotional, too. I would be.”

 

“What about…” Dex hesitates. “Y’know. The other thing.”

 

Ransom raises his eyebrows. “The more than friends thing?” Dex flushes and nods, and Ransom exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “That’s up to you, man. But I’d--I’d take shit slow. What happened tonight--that’d fuck anyone up. Give him some space.”

 

Dex nods. He feels...not clear-headed, because his nose is still stuffed and his eyes feel red and kind of swollen. But better. “Thanks,” he says softly.

 

“What I’m here for, bro,” Ransom says, bumping his shoulder gently into Dex’s.

 

“Yeah, but--” Ransom climbs up to his feet, holding out a hand, and Dex takes it, lets Ransom pull him up. “I’ve never...told anyone, before.”

 

Ransom looks a little surprised, but he covers it quickly, patting Dex’s arm. “Thanks for trusting me with this moment,” he says solemnly. Then he pauses. “I think that’s the line. It’s Shitty’s, not mine.”

 

It startles a laugh out of Dex, and he runs a hand through his hair, scrubs it over his face. “You’re welcome, I guess,” he says. Ransom turns to go back inside, but as he does, something he said pops into Dex’s head, and before he can stop himself, Dex blurts out, “Hey, Rans?”

 

Ransom stops, looking back at him.

 

Dex hesitates, not really sure what to say now. “You said you--that you get it.”

 

“Oh.” Ransom smiles, faint and only half there. “Yeah. Well. You’re not the first guy to fall for your d-man, y’know?”

 

And Dex has always kind of wondered, because no one could spend so much time with Rans and Holster and not at least _think_ about it, but--he’s always kind of thought those unrequited feelings went the other way, what with the singing and the passive-aggressive _Justin_ s every time Ransom flirts and… “Does Holster--”

 

“We should go back inside,” Ransom interrupts, and Dex shuts his mouth. He’s spent enough time on lobster boats to know when someone’s done with a conversation. But Ransom holds the door open for him, and settles his hand gently back on Dex’s shoulder as they head back inside.

 

The inside of the hospital feels weirdly bright after the street lights on the porch, and Dex blinks a few times while his eyes adjust, not really noticing as Ransom waves to the front desk. She must recognize them, because she lets them walk back to the ER without a word, and Dex follows Ransom back to Nursey’s room.

 

The lights are still off there, and his eyes have to adjust again, but it takes less time. Nursey’s still asleep, but there’s an IV in his arm now, and Dex’s stomach flips unpleasantly, even though he can’t see the needle because Nursey is still mostly-cocooned under Holster’s hoodie and the blanket from earlier. Holster’s sprawled in the chair next to the bed, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up when they come in, his worried expression clear even in the semi-darkness of the room. “Hey,” he says softly, sitting up straighter. “You okay, Dex?”

 

Dex nods. “Yeah. Just--”

 

Holster shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain it, man.” His gaze flickers to Nursey, then to Ransom, and he shivers a little. “I’d be a fucking mess, if it was Rans.”

 

Ransom crosses the room to him, touches his shoulder, and Holster grabs his hand and squeezes it, looking up at him with soft eyes, his face full of more emotions than Dex can count.

 

 _Holy shit, Ransom_ , Dex thinks, looking at them. _You are a fucking idiot_.

 

Holster lets Ransom’s hand go and Ransom gives him a small smile and settles himself down on the rolling stool next to the counter, and Dex goes back to his chair on the other side of the bed, scooting it a little closer so that he can peer down to look at Nursey’s face. It’s peaceful and calm, and Dex reaches out a shaking hand, brushes a few of Nursey’s soft curls off his forehead.

 

“How’s he doing?” Ransom murmurs to Holster.

 

“Same.” Holster runs a hand through his hair. “He woke up when they came in to place the IV, asked where Dex was--” Dex must make some sort of weird face, because Holster gives him a sympathetic look. “I told him you just went to get some air, man, don’t worry. He dropped off again after that.” He shrugs. “I emailed Hall and Murray, cc’ed the trainers, updated Bits and Lardo. Figured that’d hold down the fort.”

 

Ransom nods. “Thanks, man.”

 

Sitting there with them, Dex realizes, suddenly, that he can’t remember which of them he voted for for the C last year. He can’t imagine one of them doing it without the other, and he can’t imagine trying to handle this shitshow of a night without both of them. “You guys are really great fucking captains,” he says. “You know that, right?”

 

They glance at him, identical expressions of affectionate surprise, and Holster smiles gently. “Thanks, bro.”

 

Dex smiles back--a little faintly, maybe, but he does mean it.

 

He looks down at Nursey again, because he can’t...he can’t stop himself from looking at him, like fixing his eyes on Nursey’s face will make it clear that Nursey’s here and safe and okay. He strokes Nursey’s curls back again, and his fingertips brush against Nursey’s cheekbone as he does.

 

Nursey’s eyelashes flutter, and he blinks his eyes open slowly before focusing. “Dex?”

 

It comes out as a whisper. He sounds exhausted, still half-asleep. Dex leans forward. “Yeah,” he says, matching Nursey’s volume. “I’m here.”

 

Nursey blinks a few times, like it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open. “You left.”

 

Dex’s heart twists in his chest. “Just for a little while.” He swallows. “I’m here now.”

 

For a moment, Nursey’s quiet, and then he shifts, worming one arm--thankfully, the one without the IV--out from under the blanket. He reaches for Dex’s hand, and Dex, without thinking, takes it, curling their fingers together. Nursey’s are cool, even though they’ve been under the blanket and Holster’s sweatshirt, and he squeezes them. “Stay,” Nursey mumbles, closing his eyes again.

 

“Yeah,” Dex promises. “I will.”

 

Nursey nods, a small, barely-there moment, and his fingers relax around Dex’s. Dex finds himself bent awkwardly over the bed, and he tugs his chair a little closer to get more comfortable, so he can hold Nursey’s hand and prop his other elbow up, absently carding his fingers through Nursey’s hair.

 

He hears a soft intake of breath, and glances up, but both Ransom and Holster are looking pointedly at their phones. Dex exhales through his nose, and shifts again, bending to pillow his head on his upper arm. He can feel Nursey’s pulse in their joined hands, and it’s strong and soothing. Maybe he can close his eyes, rest just for a little while. It’s been a long night. A couple of minutes won’t hurt.

 

The next thing he knows, Holster’s shaking him gently awake with a hand on his shoulder, and he’s blinking blearily up into the suddenly much brighter room. “Wha--?”

 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Holster says, but his voice is fond. “Time to go home.”

 

Dex looks up at him, confused, and then remembers where he is and what’s going on. He snaps his head around, searching for Nursey, and finds him sitting up in the bed. The IV’s gone and he’s taken off Holster’s sweatshirt, and he smiles faintly at Dex when he meets his eyes--he still looks tired and drained, but less like he’s about to topple over, and his eyes are clearer, less glazed than they were earlier. “Hey,” Dex says, pushing himself up and wincing as his back cracks. “How are you doing?”

 

“Better, I think,” Nursey says. “Still a little...weird. But better.”

 

“We’re waiting for his discharge stuff,” Ransom says, pushing himself back and forth on the wheeling stool. He looks exhausted. Dex doesn’t even want to know what time it is. “Then we can head out.”

 

Dex nods, rubbing his eyes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket--3 in the morning, _Jesus_. He’s got two new texts from Chowder, which isn’t even a little surprising, though the fact that he slept through the alerts kind of is. He shakes his head a little and opens his messages.

 

**Chris Chowder Chow: just checking in. things going ok?**

**Chris Chowder Chow: nvm, got updates from bitty n lardo. This is so scary :( we’re all gonna stay up til you guys get home. Let me know if you need anything**

**Me: hey sorry for radio silence, i fell asleep. we’re doing discharge stuff now, should be home soon. can i crash with you tonight?**

**Chris Chowder Chow: yeah man of course**

 

Dr. Cohen comes back into the room as Dex starts to type out a response, so he pockets his phone instead. “Hey there,” he says, holding up a sheaf of papers and looking at Nursey. “You ready to get out of here?”

 

“Yes, please,” Nursey says, his voice so tired Dex glances at him again, looking a little closer to make sure he’s not going to keel over like he did before. He seems a lot steadier now, but there are definitely circles under his eyes, even though he slept longer than Dex did, and his eyes themselves are red, like maybe he was crying. “Do I have to sign stuff?”

 

The doctor shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he says. “This has all of your discharge information--the tests we ran, your treatment tonight, aftercare instructions. You’ll want to take it easy for the next few days, okay?”

 

Nursey frowns. “We have a game,” he mumbles, looking at Ransom.

 

Ransom shakes his head. “Don’t worry about the game,” he says. “Seriously.” He takes the packet from the doctor and shakes his hand. “Thanks for everything.”

 

Dr. Cohen nods. “You boys take care,” he says. He shakes Holster’s hand, too. Nursey doesn’t offer his, just leans his head on Dex’s shoulder, and closes his eyes, but to Dex’s surprise, the doctor does shake his hand, his grip gentle. “Take care of those knuckles, eh?” he says, lips quirking up in a faint smile.

 

Dex flushes. “I’ll--yeah. I will. Thanks.”

 

The doctor squeezes his hand, and leaves. Holster shakes his head, looking at Dex with vague amusement, and then zips up his hoodie. “Nice guy,” he says. He turns to Nursey. “Ready to go, bro?”

 

Nursey nods, lifting his head from Dex’s shoulder, and Dex misses the contact immediately. But Nursey leans against him again as soon as he slides down off the bed, and Dex finds himself shifting to wrap an arm around his waist.

 

He tells himself, firmly, that it’s just to support him, make sure he stays upright, but he’s pretty sure even his internal monologue is giving him Lardo’s side-eye.

 

They don’t talk as they drive back to Samwell, but it’s not the same tense, panicked quiet that had filled the car during the drive to the hospital. Nursey dozes with his head on Dex’s shoulder and Dex rests his head against Nursey’s, watching the road go by and trying not to wonder how much of this contact is Nursey being freaked out and clinging to familiarity and safety, and how much of it is--is because it’s him. He chews his bottom lip, focusing on keeping his breathing even instead. That’s more important, right? That’s more important.

 

The lights in the Haus are still on when Holster pulls up and turns the car off, and Dex shakes Nursey gently awake. “Home sweet home, bro,” he says, and Nursey makes a sleepy sound, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

 

They climb out of the car, and it seems to take Nursey a few seconds to realize where he is. He frowns when he does, confusion and what might be hesitation on his face. “Holster,” he says. “I know--I know it’s been a long night, but could you drive me back to my dorm? I don’t think I can walk that far.”

 

His shoulders droop a little bit when he finishes talking, like just the act of stringing that many words together was exhausting, and Dex steps a little closer to him, slightly alarmed that he’s going to fall over again.

 

Holster shakes his head. “Haus slumber party tonight,” he says. “Captain’s orders. Bitty’s bunking in with Lards so you can crash in his room.” His tone doesn’t leave much room for argument, but he’s gentle when he says, “Let us keep an eye on you tonight, bro, okay?”

 

Nursey opens his mouth, then closes it, swallows visibly. “Thanks,” he whispers.

 

Holster smiles, gives him the gentlest punch to the arm Dex has ever seen. “Got your back,” he says. “C’mon, I’m fucking wiped.”

 

They troop up the porch steps together, and the door opens before Holster can even put his key in the lock, Bitty looking up at them from the doorway. He’s wearing SMH sweatpants and a Falconers t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too big, and the expression on his face is the same one Dex’s mom had worn when he’d stayed out three hours past curfew in high school, fucking around in Aroostook County and letting his phone die instead of calling to let her know where he was. His eyes sweep past Dex and Ransom and Holster and zero in on Nursey, and go soft and sympathetic and worried so fast it puts a lump in Dex’s throat.

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the porch. He starts to reach forward, and then hesitates. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

 

Nursey nods, and Bitty folds him into a tight, fierce embrace. Even though most of them are at least five or six inches taller than him--at 6’2”, Nursey’s got eight inches on him, and has to curl down to tuck his head against Bitty’s shoulder--Bitty gives awesome hugs, warm and close and gentle, like he’s trying to tuck all the love in his personality into his arms and then wrap them around another person. Bitty strokes his slim fingers through Nursey’s hair and Nursey’s shoulders tremble and then shake, and Bitty just holds him, shushes him softly, rubs circles on his back with his other hand.

 

Ransom and Holster exchange a glance over Bitty’s head and then, moving in unison, slip past him into the Haus. Dex hesitates for a moment, looking at Nursey uncertainly, and then follows them inside. He knows when he’s not needed.

 

Chowder and Lardo are on the couch in their pajamas, talking softly with their heads together, but they look up when he comes in. “Hey,” Chowder says, scrambling up, and before Dex can even open his mouth, Chowder pulls him into a hug. “Are you okay?”

 

Dex swallows. “Yeah,” he says. He thinks it’s mostly true. “Just really tired.” He pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks for letting me crash with you, man.”

 

Chowder shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Lardo moves over on the couch so Dex can half-collapse down next to her. She doesn’t hug him, but she does shove her feet against his thigh and ruffle his hair, which is about the same thing. “You need anything?”

 

Dex tilts his head back against the couch. “Sleep,” he says, honestly. “For like, a week, maybe.”

 

She hums. “You want me to talk to Hall and Murray? Get you out of the game? Nursey’ll be out anyway, it’s not like you’ll be getting ice time.”

 

Dex thinks about it. “I think Rans and Holster might have already emailed them about it,” he admits. “But that’d be good.” Plus he’ll be able to keep an eye on Nursey, if Nursey wants him around.

 

Bitty and Nursey come inside, Bitty shutting the front door and locking it, and Dex pretends not to see both of them wiping their eyes. Chowder doesn’t ask permission like Bitty did, but Nursey doesn’t flinch back when Chowder sweeps him up into a hug.

 

“We were _so_ worried,” he says, his arms tight around Nursey’s waist. He pulls back, studying Nursey’s face. “Are you okay? They let you come home, so you’re okay, right?”

 

Bitty swats at his arm. “Let him breathe,” he chides gently.

 

“I’m okay,” Nursey says, though he doesn’t sound totally convinced himself. “I’m just really tired, C.”

 

“Then let’s get you up to bed,” Bitty says. He glances at the battered clock on the wall, and starts. “Oh, Lord. Yes. Bed, little frogs, come on, all of you. Up, up the stairs.” He pauses. “Nursey, are you okay on stairs? Are you still shaky?”

 

“Um.” Nursey hesitates.

 

Dex gets to his feet. “I got you, bro.”

 

Nursey shoots him a surprised look, like he didn’t expect Dex to still be there. “You’re staying?”

 

“Yeah.” Dex shrugs one shoulder. “Gonna crash on Chowder’s floor.”

 

“Oh.” Nursey nods slowly, and Dex takes advantage of that to take hold of his arm, more carefully than he normally would, and steer him gently toward the stairs.

 

Nursey puts a bit of his weight on him, but not much, and only wobbles a little as they make their way up to the second floor. Still, Dex hears the air leave him in a rush when he deposits him on Bitty’s bed, and he grabs his shoulder before he can totally tip over. “Easy,” he cautions. “All right?”

 

“Yeah. Just…” Nursey rubs his face. “Yeah.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them as Ransom comes into the room with a bundle of clothes in his arm.

 

“Yo,” he says. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in jeans.” He shoves a pair of sweatpants at Dex, and hands a matching pair to Nursey, along with Holster’s hoodie. “Your fave,” he says, with a faint grin.

 

Nursey’s answering laugh is tired but genuine as he takes it. “Thanks, Rans,” he says.

 

Ransom reaches out like he wants to ruffle his hair, then remembers at the last second not to and just puts his hand on Nursey’s head instead. It kind of reminds Dex of the kind of gruff affection his dad gives him on the boat. “It’s what we’re here for, Nursey,” he says.

 

“Yeah, but--”

 

“Nursey.” Ransom crouches down, so that he can look Nursey in the eyes where he’s sitting on Bitty’s bed. “It’s seriously what we’re here for. Okay?”

 

Nursey swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

 

Ransom smiles, drops his hand down to Nursey’s shoulder and squeezes once, and then tousles Dex’s hair roughly before leaving the room, leaving them alone.

 

It strikes Dex, suddenly and strangely, that the last time they were alone together, they were kissing in Nursey’s dorm room, hot and fierce and furious. It was only a week ago, but it feels a million years away.

 

He takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “I guess I’ll--I’m gonna go change, and head into C’s room,” he says. He glances at Nursey, and finds him looking down, toying with a loose thread on the sleeve of Holster’s sweatshirt. He waits a few seconds, just in case Nursey might say something, but he doesn’t. Dex bites the inside of his cheek and picks at the corner of the band-aid on his knuckles. “I’m…” He breathes in, exhales slowly. “I’m really fucking glad you’re okay, Derek,” he says, softly. “And I’m--I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you.”

 

Nursey picks his head up and looks at him. His eyes are bright and glistening at the corners and a lump forms in his throat, and when Nursey whispers, “Please don’t sleep in Chowder’s room,” Dex’s heart cracks in his fucking chest.

 

“I,” he says, and he has to stop himself, has to take another breath. “You’re sure you want me to stay?” Nursey nods, but Dex shakes his head. “I mean _me_ , Nursey, not--I can get C, or Bits, if you just don’t want to be by yourself--”

 

Nursey curls his hand around Dex’s and clings, and Dex finds himself squeezing his fingers back, without thinking about it. “Stay,” he says, and his voice is shaking, but sure. “Will, just...Stay?”

 

Dex feels his eyes prickle and burn, but he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Okay.” He gives Nursey’s hand another squeeze. “Why don’t you--you go change, okay? I’m gonna let C know I’m staying with you.”

 

He gets to his feet and uses his grip on Nursey’s hand to help him up to his, and gives him a gentle nudge out toward the hall bathroom. Nursey lets go of his hand to close the bathroom door behind him, and Dex takes a second to close his eyes and breathe, then heads through Chowder’s open door.

 

“Hey,” Chowder says, poking his head out of his closet. “I’m trying to find my air mattress. I swear it’s in here.” He goes a little pink. “Usually the only one who stays over is Caitlin, and she, um, doesn’t sleep on it.”

 

“Actually,” Dex clears his throat. “I’m gonna stay in Bitty’s room with Nursey.”

 

Chowder sits back on his heels, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

 

His voice is carefully measured. Dex _needs_ him to stop spending so much time with Lardo. “Yeah,” he says. He tightens his arms around the pair of sweatpants he’s still holding, then holds them up. Chowder makes a _go ahead gesture_ , so Dex kicks his sneakers off into the corner of Chowder’s room and shucks his jeans with the practiced nonchalance born of way too many years of locker rooms, slipping the sweatpants on and knotting the drawstring. “I, uh.” He shrugs. “I don’t think he wants to be alone.”

 

Chowder’s whole face softens. “I didn’t think of that,” he says. “Of course he doesn’t, oh my gosh.” He shudders a little. “This whole thing is so awful, Dex, I hate it so much.”

 

Dex nods. “Yeah.”

Chowder chews his bottom lip. “Do you think he’s gonna wanna go to the police about it?”

 

Dex blinks. He honestly hasn’t even thought about that. “I…” He shakes his head. “Maybe let’s table that for another day, man, okay? I can’t get my head around that tonight.” He reaches down to rub Chowder’s head, though. “But thanks for texting me tonight, dude. It...it kept my brain straight.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Chowder smiles faintly. “I wish I could’ve done more, y’know?” He glances out the door. “I’m right down the hall if you guys need anything tonight, okay?”

 

“Yeah, man, of course.” Dex manages another smile and folds his jeans over his arm so that his phone, keys, and wallet don’t fall out of the pockets. “Night, C.”

 

“Night, Dex.”

 

The door to the bathroom is open, so Dex takes a few minutes to pee and wash his face, grateful for the brief solitude and silence. His reflection looks sleepily at him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out with some mouthwash he finds in the cabinet. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and the skin around them is red and puffy. He spits the mouthwash into the sink and sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

 

All of this, he thinks, will be better in the morning.

 

He remembers what time it is, and cringes. Okay, he thinks. The _real_ morning.

 

Nursey’s already in bed when Dex gets back to Bitty’s room, curled on his side facing the window. Dex steps inside and closes the door carefully, setting his jeans down on Bitty’s desk. “Nursey?” he says. “Still awake?”

 

“Yeah,” Nursey says, his voice slightly muffled.

 

“Cool if I turn out the lights?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dex flicks the switch and shuffles across the room, a little cautious in the unfamiliar space in the dark, climbing into bed next to Nursey. Bitty’s bed is a full, which feels practically luxurious compared to the twin XL in Dex’s dorm room, but they’re both big guys; there’s not really any way for them to share without touching. Dex ends up on his back, not really sure what to do with his arms, and settles for folding one up behind his head, folding the other onto his stomach.

 

For a few minutes they just lie there, silent. Dex listens to Nursey’s breathing, hears how slow and measured it is, and realizes that it’s intentional, controlled. He turns to look at him, his eyes adjusting to the moonlight filtering in through the open curtains, and takes in the tense, trembling line of Nursey’s shoulders. He takes a breath. “Nursey,” he says.

 

Nursey twists a little to look at him.

 

Dex hesitates, then extends an arm. “Do you want--”

 

Nursey’s lower lip trembles and then he nods, rolling until he’s curled into Dex’s side, his face tucked into Dex’s neck. He’s shaking, and when Dex whispers, “Derek, Derek, hey, it’s okay,” he makes a punched-out sound that goes right to Dex’s chest, digging his fingers into Dex’s t-shirt. Dex wraps his other arm around him and holds him, blinking back his own tears, trying not to think about how Nursey has more muscle mass than he does but feels so small right now, about how hard he’s shaking, about the tears soaking into the skin of his neck.

 

He just holds him, and breathes.

 

He’s not sure how much time has passed when Nursey finally takes a deep, shuddering breath and lifts his head, taking his hand off Dex’s chest and wiping his eyes. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “Fuck. Sorry. I’m a fucking mess right now.”

 

“It’s fine.” Dex loosens his arms a bit, giving Nursey the space to pull away if he wants to, but Nursey puts his head back on Dex’s shoulder, a little hesitantly, so Dex slings his arm around him again. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay, but…”

 

“It’s like--” Nursey sniffs, and Dex gropes around on Bitty’s nightstand for a tissue with his free hand, shoves it at Nursey until he takes it and wipes his nose. “Like, I’m fine. I know I’m fine? But I just keep thinking that…”

 

He trails off, a shudder going through him, and Dex tightens his arm without thinking about it. He doesn’t really need to know what Nursey keeps thinking, because it’s probably the same thing he keeps thinking. “Nursey, anyone would be freaking out. You don’t have to apologize.”

 

Nursey sniffles again, rubbing the tissue over his nose, and Dex holds out his hand for it. Nursey’s look of surprise is visible even in the dim moonlight, and Dex ignores it, dropping the tissue in the trash can by the bed. “You need another one?” Nursey shakes his head tiredly, and Dex nods. Hesitantly, he rests his hand on Nursey’s head, running his fingertips along Nursey’s curls, and Nursey closes his eyes.

 

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, after a few moments. Nursey makes a soft sound of assent. “How come you called me?”

 

Nursey doesn’t answer right away, and at first, Dex thinks he’s fallen asleep. After a minute, though, he takes a deep breath, slipping his hand up to rest it on Dex’s chest again. “I was scared,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. “I knew something was up, and I was fucking scared and I just--” He breathes in again, his shoulders moving under Dex’s arm. “I wanted you,” he says, so softly Dex almost doesn’t hear it. “I didn’t care how mad at me you were. I just...I wanted you, because you make me feel safe, and I knew you’d come.”

 

His breath catches when he inhales again. “I was so fucking scared, Dex,” he whispers, and Dex _loses it_ , tightens his arms again and buries his face in Nursey’s hair. Nursey wraps his arm around Dex’s back and fists his fingers into Dex’s shirt, and Dex feels like the worst kind of asshole for crying because _he’s_ fucking fine and it’s not about him, but he can’t stop his tears.

 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so, so fucking sorry. I was pissed and jealous and I flipped out on you and I never should’ve--I was scared because I wanted you and I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t want you to want someone else, and I fucked everything up and--” He drags in a breath and he’s aware, vaguely, that Nursey’s clinging to him as tightly as he’s clinging to Nursey. “I should’ve just fucking told you, and you’d never have been anywhere near him, and this whole thing is my fucking fault, Nursey.”

 

Nursey pushes himself back, lifting his face from the crook of Dex’s neck and shaking his head. His cheeks are glistening, and Dex feels another stab of guilt twist his stomach. “It’s not your fault,” he says. “I wanted you to be jealous, and…” He shakes his head again, and then puts it back down against Dex’s. “It’s not your fault.” He sounds tired, but like he means it, and he squeezes his arm more tightly around Dex’s waist. “Okay, Dex? Please?”

 

Dex swallows the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and bends his head down, ducking his nose into Nursey’s hair, the soft curls tickling his skin. “I’m still…” He lets out a shaky sigh, and lifts his hand to brush a few curls back. “I’m still sorry for everything I said.”

 

“I know.” Nursey lifts his head again, looking up at him. Dex can’t really make his expression out, but he can tell his eyes are soft. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

 

“Okay.” Dex nods. Nursey looks at him, like he’s not sure he’s really convinced, and Dex says “okay,” again, more forcefully, and tugs gently at Nursey’s shoulder. “Come here. You need to sleep, you must be exhausted.”

 

“Yeah,” Nursey says, and he sounds it, weary and drained.

 

They shift a little, finding a more comfortable position, Dex on his back and Nursey on his side, curled up with one arm over Dex’s chest, Dex’s arm around Nursey’s shoulders, his fingers running softly through his curls. The skin on his neck is tacky where Nursey’s tears have dried, but he’s slept through worse. Nursey’s breathing is still a little shaky, but it starts to even out the longer Dex combs his fingers through his hair, and Dex, feeling suddenly brave, turns his head, brushing his lips over Nursey’s forehead, then his temple.

 

“Dex,” Nursey says.

 

He draws back. Fuck. That was probably--so fucking inappropriate. “Sorry,” he says, guilt mounting immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I--”

 

Nursey touches his jaw with gentle fingers. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I just…” He sighs, quiet. “I might not remember this in the morning,” he says. Dex remembers Ransom saying _disoriented as hell_ , and feels a twinge of nausea. “And I--I want to remember it.” He looks up at him. “Okay?”

 

Something warm and hopeful and fluttery blooms in Dex’s chest. He swallows, overwhelmed. “Yeah.”

 

“Okay.” Nursey closes his eyes again, and this time, when he puts his head back down on Dex’s shoulder, he reaches across Dex’s chest and takes his other hand, lacing their fingers together. Dex sucks in a breath, but folds his fingers over Nursey’s. He can feel Nursey’s heartbeat against his palm, so much stronger than it was earlier, steady and even, and closes his eyes, letting himself relax for the first time since he picked up the phone, hours and hours and hours ago.

 

Outside Bitty’s window, it starts to rain.

 

#

 

It happens like this:

 

The _what-if_ s don’t matter. He picked up the phone.

 

It happens like this:

 

In the morning, Nursey wakes up with a bruise on his arm from the IV, and a hangover, and immediately has a panic attack. Dex holds him until the shaking stops and his sobs turn into even breaths, and they stay in Bitty’s bedroom, just talking, softly, until Chowder texts around noon to ask if they’re okay.

 

It happens like this:

 

They don’t kiss that day, or the day after. They kiss two weeks later, on Dex’s bed, arguing through the end credits of _Pacific Rim_ , about whether Mako and Raleigh’s relationship is meant to be platonic or romantic, and Nursey rolls his eyes and ducks forward and touches his lips to Dex’s. It’s soft and it’s slow and it’s so much different than the first time, and it’s better.

 

It happens like this.

 

It takes some time, but they’re okay.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Nursey goes on a date with a guy who slips a mix of drugs into Nursey's drink, with presumably very shady motives. Nothing bad happens to him and everyone is okay, but there is discussion of the potential for sexual assault, and everyone (fairly understandably) freaks out about this. Dex has a panic attack while they are at the ER with Nursey. It is mentioned that Nursey has a panic attack the next day.
> 
> OKAY SO I SWEAR THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT AND ANGSTY BUT SWEET and I...don't know what happened. It got away from me. But anyway, HI HELLO, first fic in the fandom, please be kind.
> 
> Also, #NotAllHarvardDudes and all that, but I'll be honest, I spent four years at a small liberal arts school in the Boston area, and the only time I ever actually felt unsafe was at a Harvard party surrounded by former prep school guys with names like "Colton" and "Braydon" and "Fleet" so like...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Art imitates life? 
> 
> Questions? Comments? Yell at me [on tumblr](http://geniusorinsanity.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] it drops with the gravity of rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466687) by [read by Khashana (Khashana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/read%20by%20Khashana)




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